


Bound

by winterwaters



Series: Never Forget [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, AxG Week, Bound, F/M, Future Fic, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwaters/pseuds/winterwaters





	Bound

The first letter came without warning. One morning, Arya awoke to find a small strip of parchment, rolled and tied carefully with twine, sitting beside her head on the bedroll. Looking around with narrowed eyes for the prankster, she found barely anyone awake.

Carefully, she unwound the scroll to find a small scrap of paper with neat, precise handwriting. Though it contained only two sentences, Arya still felt the breath leave her in surprise.

_Since you refuse to speak to me, I hope you will accept this form of conversation instead._

Her head whipped around again in the direction of Gendry’s blankets. Finding them empty and already tucked away, she chewed her lip in frustration. Her curiosity overtaking her, Arya turned back to the paper in hand.

_You don’t have to reply. Just read. Please._

Arya stared at the parchment long after reading the simple plea, dozens of questions swirling in her mind. The stupid bull. He’d done this on purpose. He knew she would want more information now, regardless of her grudge.

She’d returned to Westeros a little over two weeks ago. Nymeria had been awaiting her at the bank the moment she stepped off the ship, with an expression that seemed to say “What took you so long?” Arya hadn’t known whether to cry or laugh, so she’d done both, hugging her long lost best friend until she could breathe again. Only two days of travel later, they’d stumbled upon The Brotherhood. 

Well. Stumbled wasn’t quite the word. Arya was certain Nymeria had known exactly where she was going, and her suspicions were confirmed as soon as her friend bounded up to one of the men, nudging his sleeve until he chuckled and bent to greet her.

Then she’d tugged him forward, and his blue eyes had found Arya hidden amongst the trees. Arya had been in such shock that she simply stared back, trying to understand how she could see a friend and stranger all in one person. Then Tom and Lem’s yells broke the spell, and suddenly she was surrounded by the men who’d been her company for so long.

She didn’t miss his glances. Those eyes seemed to follow her every step, as if certain she would disappear into thin air right in front of him. Arya refused to acknowledge him, because admitting that he’d hurt her by choosing these men would mean admitting he had meant something to her, that he had been more than just a boy in her pack. And that, she wasn’t ready to face yet.

So she traveled with them to the village where they seemed to have taken up residence, spending her evenings with Thoros and Beric, who informed her of the events that had occurred in her absence. The news sparked a fresh anger and determinedness inside her, and Arya found it was reflected within the brotherhood. She knew they would follow her into battle, and for that she was grateful.

Now, in the early light of morning, she carefully rolled up the letter, tying it again with twine and tucking it into the pouch at her belt. Nymeria, though, she couldn’t control as much as she would have liked. Her eager friend would bound and play beside her until loping off towards the forge, where she remained for hours. Arya always stopped a few feet away, unwilling to go closer.

At night, she stayed awake as long as possible, trying to decipher when his heavy footsteps would sound out in approach. Instead, his hammering continued as he built armor for the men, and for her, and she fell asleep to the steady ringing of steel.

The next morning brought another small scroll.

 _I hope that it’s you reading this, and not Anguy or Lem having a good laugh._. 

Arya’s mouth twitched in spite of herself.

_Thoros taught me to read and write, after we lost you. It was my choice. I wanted to learn, to feel useful, in case news ever came through somehow. I was tired of relying on others._

That explained it, then. She’d wondered more than once, when she’d seen him looking over Anguy’s shoulder at a map or other letter. She did her best to ignore his earlier words.

As the days continued, Arya found, quite annoyingly, that her first action in the mornings would be to reach by her head for the paper she knew she would find. Some days there were only a few words, about how he admired the strategies she’d laid out for Thoros or how her Needle still suited her well. 

Other days, he would mention things that happened while she’d been away. The lady knight they’d met who wouldn’t stop comparing him to a Baratheon, who annoyed him him to no end. The same knight whose toughness constantly reminded him of Arya. He mentioned Nymeria more than once, and Arya started to get a vague timeline of how the years had passed.

She soon found she had too many letters to tuck away into her pouch, so one day she made her way into the village. Finding the shop she was after, she ducked inside and splayed the parchments in disarray on the table for the bookkeeper. 

“Can you bind these? Somewhat orderly?” She requested.

Although he was surprised, he nodded and gestured for her to wait. Surely enough, sometime later he returned with a small leatherbound pouch in his hand, the papers nowhere to be seen. Arya gingerly opened the cover to find the letters smoothed out and filed in, with plenty of space remaining. Gratefully, she thanked and paid him, clutching her bundle close as she left. That night, she purposely left it by her head before sleep overtook her.

In the early light of dawn, she awoke to a wet nose on her cheek. Smiling, Arya put a hand out to pet Nymeria, feeling her wolf settle next to her contentedly. Turning her head, she saw another scroll resting atop the leather case. Unwinding it, she noted the hasty binding and much shakier writing, as if done by an uneven hand. But it was the words that blurred her vision.

_I didn’t choose the brotherhood over you. I was trying to make myself into something, so that I would have the right to choose you._

Arya closed her eyes, turning her face into Nymeria’s soft fur. Only Gendry would be so stupid. Her stupid, stupid bull. Because he was hers. Of course he was.

That night after supper, she didn’t sit with Thoros or Beric. She trained alone, trying to settle her nerves the only way she knew how. When she finished, Nymeria was sitting behind her, head cocked to the side curiously, and Arya smiled.

“Alright, you win,” she murmured. “Let’s go.”

Nymeria trotted happily in front of her, nudging the forge door open easily and slipping inside. Arya waited in the doorway, holding her case of letters and watching as Gendry bent to slip a treat to her wolf, his back to the door. Nymeria bared her teeth in a grin as she butted her head against his shoulder, and finally Gendry turned. 

Surprise, along with a host of other emotions, flashed across his face, and for a moment Arya wondered if he would ask her to leave. Then he stood, crossing the room in a few long strides to stand in front of her.

Still holding her case, Arya stepped inside the forge and closed the door behind her, keeping her eyes on his. Gendry’s mouth twitched, trying to pull up at the corner. His eyes seemed to drink her in, roaming all over her before stalling on the bundle in her hand. Then his gaze trailed back up to her face.

“Finally,” he breathed. Then he raised an eyebrow. “Are you really here?”

Arya looked up at him, feeling at ease for the first time since she’d stepped off the ship. “Yes. I really am.”


End file.
